


Shattered Prophecies

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Deathfic, Despair, Gen, Heavy Angst, Now Ongoing, old fic, some blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: The battle ended badly. Now Obi-Wan has to face a broken world without the Force's Chosen One. The Force did not create Obi-Wan capable of carrying such a burden, but he will try anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Quinlan Vos is a knight, but not a master.
> 
> Also, it will end with what feels like a cliffhanger. There are no sparkles here, no ideas for an ending, it may stay unsatisfactory and unresolved until the end of time. If you don't want to have that weight, there are other stories that actually have endings.
> 
> One last warning: This is classic Fair Warning, the entire point of this story is angst and pain and drawn-out death. I just discovered there is a tag called "Deathfic." I had to look it up. How have I been doing this publicly for a whole year and didn't know there was a word for it?

 

Anakin writhed, his eyes rolled up in his head, blood dripping from his mouth as he gasped for air and groaned.

It couldn’t be called consciousness.

And yet he was far, infinitely far, from unconsciousness.

Obi-Wan struggled to his side and pulled his friend over his knees.

He couldn’t save him. He could feel him dying, his death-throes thrashing through the Force like a spike-lined electrowhip, burning and tearing at the same time. It weakened him further.

He pressed his left hand against the side of Anakin’s face, his right down onto his chest. He closed his eyes and focused....

And Anakin’s pain began to transfer to him as relief poured through his hands. He ground his teeth and his head snapped to face the sky as the pain increased.

And beneath his fingers, he could feel Anakin’s jerking slowly ease... then stop.... The younger man gasped for air, his eyes still rolled back, heart still tremoring and spasing...

Still dying...

But the pain was fleeing. Overpowered.

Anakin was too far gone to sense his master’s agony. But he sensed his presence.

He clung to it, like a drowning man.

Like a child.

Like he had twelve years before, when his world had come crashing down the day his Finder died and he found himself alone in a new world, facing an entire Order that either didn’t want him, was wary of him, or hung all their hopes on him. Obi-Wan had forced his presence in the Force to be one of comfort, assurance and confidence, even though his own world had been shattered, and he was afraid, overwhelmed, and grief-stricken.

He had been able to comfort Anakin simply by existing... even if he himself was as far from comfort as imaginable.

Once again, Anakin clung to his Master’s presence, and to the mercy he held out. Once again, Obi-Wan focused on helping him, despite his own pain and growing weakness. Once again, Anakin missed his master’s sacrifice and clung to the hope and help he held out. Clung to it as his silhouette in the Force flickered... and died out.

As the last of his Life-Force fled, and he lay limp and still.

Obi-Wan gasped for breath. His own pain now screamed through his ears.

Anakin was gone.

He was too weak to pull himself from under his dead friend’s body, so he sat there shivering in pain, mind wandering...

Trying to accept the pain...

Because he had no strength left to suppress any of it.

Or to bear it, either.

 

* * *

 

“ _ Mother of _ ...” Quinlan Vos lept forward, landing lightly, like a tooka. The blood-stained form cradling another bloody body...

One from which all life had fled.

Anakin Skywalker was dead.

Quinlan had already known that. He’d felt it in the Force.

_ Every  _ Jedi, down to the youngest youngling in the Temple on the other side of the galaxy knew it.

“Mace,” he said grimly into the comlink on his wrist, “I found them. Sending you my coordinates.”

Quinlan gently lifted the corpse off of Kenobi’s lap. As he turned to set it down, the events of the last twenty minutes flashed through his mind, fed to him through psychometry.

Anakin Skywalker was dead: his body was now an inanimate object.

The story of what had happened made Quinlan stiffen with a pained flinch.

He set the body aside and knelt before Obi-Wan. The man’s head hung down, blood dripping from his clenched teeth.

“You  _ fool _ , Kenobi,” Quinlan muttered, sensing Obi-Wan’s unbearable agony. He placed his hand against Obi-Wan’s flimsi-white-stained-crimson cheek, and tried to ease the pain.

But that was impossible. It wasn’t his gift.

Obi-Wan raised his head, the movement slow and weak. His eyes were clouded with pain and despair, but he knew Quinlan.

And he knew what Vos was talking about.

“He was in— so much—  _ pain _ —”

“And you  _ knew  _ you would be unable to ease your own if you took away his.”

“I couldn’t let him—if I could help—”

Yes, that was Obi-Wan.

“Quinlan,” he rasped, his breathing agonized, labored, gasping... “I...  _ lost...  _ the Chosen One—”

Vos forced himself to meet Obi-Wan’s tortured gaze.

“He died— on— my watch.”

“I saw it all, Kenobi.” Vos’ voice was quiet. Gentle. “You took his pain away. You took away his fear. He died no longer hurting and in peace. There was nothing more you could have done for him. You gave him everything you had and were. You were the best master and friend he could have had.”

He knew Obi-Wan was struggling with the same questions now racing through his own mind but wouldn’t voice.

_ Anakin Skywalker was the Chosen One. He was to bring Balance to the Force. _

_Now he’s dead._

_What now? Will Balance ever be found?_

_And if it’s not..._

What would that mean for the galaxy? For the Jedi?

For the Sith?

Eternal war? No end to the cruelty and bloodshed?

He inwardly shuddered and tried not to think about it. He had to help Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s blood-drained hand grabbed his forearm and gripped tight. “Vos—”

“Look, if you die before Master Windu gets here, he’ll kill  _ me _ ,” Quinlan interrupted.

The words were his.

But the tone wasn’t right. It wasn’t harsh, joking, or any of the other notable adjectives associated with Quinlan Vos.

It was subdued.

And even filled with pain.

“I—I think this mission is a—failure,” Obi-Wan choked, tiny convulsions shivering through his body.

Quinlan forced down the rage that tried to spring to life at the words. “Don’t look at it like that,” he said as calmly as he could. “We’ll make it work out, Obi-Wan. We’re not going to let this take us down. We’re not going to let this take  _ you  _ down. We’re going to get back to our feet and kick Grievous’ clanking—”

“Quinlan.” The name was said with a lost lungful of air, spraying Quinlan with a fine mist of red. He couldn’t manage to say whatever it was he’d interrupted for, and his body curled forwards, as pain grew even more intense.

Quinlan gently caught him, helped him lean back against the wall again.

Obi-Wan, head hanging, his breathing painfully audible and shaky, didn’t even notice Mace Windu’s arrival.

The great master took one look at Obi-Wan, then turned and walked away.

Quinlan sprang up and after him. As he reached Mace, he stopped, a few meters from Obi-Wan’s convulsing form.

Quinlan felt incredulous anger. “You can’t just let him die.”

“I can’t heal him. I don’t have that gift. Can you, Vos? Can  _ you  _ heal him? Because there’s no one else here, and we’re  _ out of time _ .”

“If he dies—”

“We’ll  _ deal  _ with it!” Mace snapped.

Quinlan glared at him. Windu was trying to control it, but he was afraid.

And he was struggling against grief.

To lose Obi-Wan would be a severe blow.

“Kenobi and Skywalker. We  _ can’t  _ lose them both at once. We can’t afford to lose both at  _ all _ ! Think of what this will do to the Order— to the  _ Republic  _ as a whole— they are  _ rallying  _ points—”

“The holonet will find new heroes!” Windu roared, spinning on his heel to get in Vos’ face.

“No, they won’t.” Quinlan’s voice was calm. It surprised even himself. “And you know it.”

“It can’t be helped,” growled Mace.

“We can’t afford to lose  _ two  _ of our greatest knights in a day, Windu.”

“No one Jedi is greater than another; none is more important or more valued. Kenobi dies, and the Order will continue on.”

“Do you  _ really  _ believe that?” Vos asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you really believe that if  _ Yoda  _ died—”

He couldn’t finish.

And from the look on Mace Windu’s face... he didn’t need to.

“Find me a solution, Quinlan Vos,” Mace Windu said quietly, “And I will see to it that you become a Jedi Master. But I’m telling you once and for all, I can’t see any options, and I’m out of time and room. Unless we can change the equation, we’re  _ all  _ just going to have to survive the wake of this.”

Windu was close to his breaking point.

As was probably every other Jedi in the galaxy.

Kenobi was almost as bright a beacon in the Force as Skywalker had been.

How many Jedi could feel him dying by centimeters?

“Just... make him as comfortable as you can,” Mace Windu said, his voice suddenly hoarse. Dull. “Give him peace, if at all possible—I can’t.... because I can’t find it.”

And that last statement was full of defeat.

Yes. Obi-Wan would feel his despair and fear and fury.

It would make his last moments even more of a hell. Out of mercy he stayed away.

Quinlan clenched his teeth together and took a deep breath. He returned to Obi-Wan’s side, carefully draining himself of all emotion but one: compassion. Reaching out to the Force and flooding himself with peace he didn’t feel, he reached out to once again cradle Obi-Wan’s face in his hand... and poured that peace into him.

He could feel Obi-Wan’s mind grasping at it. Desperately.

No sentient should die in despair.

Definitely not  _ this  _ one, who had saved so many lives and stopped so many cruelties and whose mark on the Order would be forever felt.

Every Jedi knew of him. Most would recognize him by sight.

And almost all of them revered him.

The few who didn’t were those who were conscientious objectors to the war. And their only objection was that he was a hero of the Republic.

Yes, even those who disagreed with the war had to admire Obi-Wan’s wisdom and skill as a negotiator. How many times had he prevented violence, even in this time of war? His advice was sought after, and yet he didn’t know it.

Powerful... wise... skilled... one of the best swordsmen the Order had...

And completely unaware of it.

And now they were losing him. Breath by agonizing breath.

Obi-Wan struggled to take a deep one, and pretty much failed. But he clung to Vos’ reassurance just as Anakin had clutched at his.

Only Vos couldn’t take away a single drop of his pain.

Obi-Wan opened himself up to Vos’ attempts to erase his fear for the future of the universe, and of the Force. There was nothing he could do about it now... yes, Quinlan. I will let you ease that.

“We need you, Obi-Wan,” he said quietly. “You have to hang in there.”

“You— _ know— _ I’m dying—”

“I know you  _ think  _ you’re dying,” Vos returned, slightly harsher. “I know  _ Mace  _ thinks you’re dying. And I know that we can’t  _ afford  _ to have you die. So you won’t.”

The tiniest flicker of a smile crossed his face. “You—sound like—Anakin—”

Vos glanced back at the form of Windu some distance away.

He knew he probably  _ shouldn’t  _ do this...

And he wasn’t supposed to know about any of this, let alone bring it up...

But...

He was out of options.

And Mace  _ had  _ given him the permission to attempt to change the equation.

“Obi-Wan,” he dropped his voice low, hoping Mace wouldn’t pick up on what was coming. And if he did... well, maybe Mace Windu could refrain from having to take notice of it right now. Or at all.

“You can’t just leave Duchess Satine by herself.”

Obi-Wan stiffened instantly. And instantly the old wall of separation flared up between them.

He felt betrayed.

The peace was gone. The fear was back.

And now there was new pain.

“What— would  _ you—  _ know about— that?”

“Give it up, Kenobi. The clones all know. The younglings in the  _ Temple  _ know. She called there, asking for you, but you were  _ here _ . She needs you, Obi-Wan. More corruption in her government. She’s in trouble.”

“And you tell me this  _ why _ ?” snarled Obi-Wan, devastated by his own inability. “Did the Council send someone—”

“ _ Someone  _ isn’t going to be able to unravel this.  _ You  _ are the only one for the job. The Senate won’t allow for anyone else. Don’t you see? You  _ must  _ survive this, Obi-Wan. Not just for the Order and the Republic. But for Satine.”

“You—play—dirty—”

“Just like I do in sabacc. But I’ve got an even dirtier move to make.”

“Stang, Vos.”

“Senator Amidala. She’s going to be devastated at the news of Skywalker’s death. She shouldn’t have to hear it in the holonews.”

Obi-Wan jerked, and the wall between them shivered into a thousand knife-edged shards of glass about him. “Padmé—”

“She will need someone who understands. Someone she can talk about Anakin to. Someone she can trust won’t speak of it anywhere else. Someone’s shoulder to cry on—”

“ _ Vos— _ ”

Quinlan looked deep into the dying blue eyes.

“You’re—making—it— _ very— _ painful—to—die—”

“That’s the idea. If I make it painful enough, you’ll decide it’s a bad idea.”

Amazement flashed across Kenobi’s face and sense. “Are—you—even—sure—you’re— _ playing— _ sabacc?”

“Could be pazaak instead,” Vos admitted. “I just have my own rulebook.”

“It—doesn’t— _ work— _ Vos—”

“ _ Perhaps _ . But I think it will. How many times did your former Padawan force events to his will?”

“He was—”

“What? The Chosen One? Or lucky? Or both? By all nine Corellian hells, you and I don’t need to be Chosen  _ or  _ lucky. I’ve got enough willpower for both of us. And guess who’s going to be here in about ten standard seconds? Somebody who will be even angrier with you than  _ I  _ am if you die. Huh, if  _ I  _ don’t have enough willpower to save you, then  _ Senator Organa _ definitely has enough for all three of us.”

“ _ Bail— _ ” Obi-Wan whispered, too weak for anything else.

Sure enough...

“Master Vos? Master Kenobi?” Bail rounded the corner. A look of horror seared into his face as he took the scene in. “Obi-Wan.” He sped to his friend and dropped to his knees beside Quinlan.

“Explain to this thick-headed barve that he can’t die,” Vos said by way of greeting. “He seems absolutely set on it.”

But Obi-Wan was slipping, and slipping fast. “Bail— _ Bail— _ ”

“I’m here, Obi-Wan. We’ve come through worse. We’ll make it through this.” He tried hard to smother his fear, but Vos could feel it.

Hopefully Obi-Wan couldn’t.

“Anakin—is—dead—”

“And that’s why we can’t let you die, Kenobi,” Vos barked. “Surely you understand the sheer  _ politics  _ of the situation!”

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” Bail said softly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“Satine, Kenobi,” growled Vos, wishing he could pour energy through his fingers. “Satine. Padmé. The Galaxy. For crying out loud— _ Yoda.  _ He won’t admit it, but he’d be devastated by your death.”

“We need you, Obi-Wan,” Bail urged. “I have a medpack with me, but it—”

Vos shook his head. “Nothing in it will make a difference. Right now, it’s going to be a matter of sheer willpower until our Jedi healers get here.”

“How long will that take?”

“Another standard hour.”  _ At best.  _ But he couldn’t say  _ that.  _ The only way to make this work was for them to be always expecting help the next moment. Kenobi might not be able to last two hours.

But surely he could last five minutes. And then another five.

And another.

Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted shut as his body surrendered.

“Don’t you  _ dare, _ ” snarled Vos. “You have a responsibility, Kenobi. You can’t run from it.”

“Obi-Wan,” Bail urged, no less urgent and insistent, but less rough. “Five minutes. Last five minutes for me, okay? We’ve been through hell and back. Remember Zigoola? Yeah, well, there’s no Sith attacking your mind now, right? Then we can do this. We can frakking well do this, and you are  _ not  _ going to vape on us now. Hear me?”

Obi-Wan dragged his eyelids up again, but couldn’t say a word.

The look on his face said it all.

Let me die in peace.

Don’t make my last moments a war. A struggle.

Let me...

Vos shook him.

Obi-Wan cried out in agony, reality slamming back into his mind. He clenched his teeth and glared up into Vos’ eyes, his entire body tensed as though expecting a blow he couldn’t defend against and didn’t deserve.

“You were going under and that woke you up. So don’t go under again, or I’ll do it again. I swear, Kenobi. I will make you suffer ten times what you’re experiencing now rather than let you die here.”

“I—never did—enjoy—your company—”

“Or I yours.”

“Padmé,” Bail protested. “Who is going to tell Padmé? She’s going to need you, Obi-Wan. She won’t know how to handle Anakin’s loss. She certainly can’t talk about it with anyone else.”

It wasn’t enough. Not near enough to hold him, Bail knew.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

In the end, it was Qui-Gon who commanded Obi-Wan to live.

Obi-Wan had been so startled to see him that he complied.

Bail hadn't been able to see the ghost, but Quinlan and Mace sure had.

The only problem now being that three weeks after his entire life had fallen apart, Obi-Wan was finally released from the Halls of Healing without Qui-Gon once appearing since that first stern, almost angry, time.

Obi-Wan stood in his empty quarters and stared out the window at Coruscant's endless chaos.

“You wanted me to live,” he muttered. “Well, here I  _fripping_ am.” 

There was still no reply.

 

* * *

 

Cody did not like the look in his General's eye.

Liked it even less when he caught him instead of eating, pouring over ancient holocrons or scrolls, the battle char still on his armor and face as he studied.

His first assumption... fear, perhaps... was that General Kenobi was searching for a way to bring General Skywalker  _back._ And while Cody knew the 501 st , now brought under General Kenobi's leadership alone, missed their dead General...

He also didn't believe it right to rob a heroic death from a vod who had faced it bravely.

Perhaps Rex should have expected Hardcase would flat-out  _ask_ the General, but the Captain looked almost as shocked as Cody when it happened.

The General glanced up, looking distracted. “Hm? No. Not... bring him back. When you try to resurrect... they're never the ones who come back. Something else inhabits the bodies. It hurts too much to look at the fake thing that stole the body and know it's not  _them._ ”

_Who did you bring back, Sir?_ Cody wondered, spine prickling.

“I'm trying to find out if there's a way to balance the Force.”

Clones stared back at him, confused now. The resurrection gibberish made a sort of sense. This...? There wasn't an entry in the reg manuals about balance in the Force.

“What is it?” Hardcase asked.

_This_ time, Cody didn't begrudge him the question.

“The Force is like a mountain,” Obi-Wan explained. “Up at the top, there is light. The light is selflessness, and can only be accessed with selfless intent. If you lean too far in one direction of selfishness— putting your best interests so high that you trample on those who cannot fight back— you start falling down a slope toward the bottom of the mountain, where the dark is. No one accidentally ascends the mountain. It takes effort and thought, and the farther down you go, the harder it is to climb back up. You usually can't see the shadows growing, because it happens gradually. One day you wake up, and the light is very far behind you. Most people at that point don't want to go back, which is why the truism  _forever shall it dominate your destiny_ came about. A generalization and warning.”

“What is balance, then?” Hardcase asked.

“The light is a mountain peak, remember. Toppling one way is attachment— putting what you want over the well-being of another person, it's not the same thing as love— but the other way leads down into the darkness as well. This second path is the one Dooku took. He didn't fall because he wanted to restrict another autonomous person. He fell because he revered his own wisdom so much that he ceased to find understanding for others, and he lost compassion. He believes that because the Jedi Order has access to the Force, Force users are somehow better than everyone else. And that because of this extra strength, we should rule the weaker, and they should have no say. That we have a right to decide who lives and who dies. Pride in his perfection led to his downfall, just as a craving to control other people and the future destroys others. That pride is why he fights against democracy. He doesn't believe someone unable to sense the Force can possibly make wise decisions.”

Hardcase frowned. “Knew there was a reason I hate that guy. So balance is staying in the light and not falling either direction into the dark.”

“Yes.”

“But isn't that a personal choice? One you make in a thousand tiny choices every day?”  
A flicker of amazed pride lit the General's eyes for a moment before the sad weight returned. “Indeed. It's rarely one giant choice, but how you live moment to moment.”

“So why would the Force need balancing?”

“In that context, balance doesn't refer to light and dark at all. There will always be light, there will always be dark. There will always be people who choose to live with selfless kindness, and those who choose to serve only themselves and shove everyone else out of their path. It doesn't matter if one is Force sensitive or not, we all make these decisions all the time. The Force has many aspects, and light and dark are not the only facets. The cosmic and the living are what is out of balance, and have been for a long time. The Living Force is created by life. It moves through everything— nature, and even the things that are sentient-made. The eternal moment. The present. Anakin was very strong in the Living Force. He could see how things fit together.”

For a moment Kenobi paused, looking lost. He dragged a hand down his face. “My gift is in the Cosmic Force. The big picture. When a living thing dies, its Force feeds the cosmic Force. The Force that spins galaxies, the past, the future, and it in turn replenishes the Living Force.”

“That's where Jedi go when they die,” Hardcase asserted.

“It's not really a place,” Kenobi hedged. “But... yes. My premonitions, my visions, they come from the cosmic Force. A few decades ago, darkness began to rise. Greed started taking over Senate, and entire populations. At the same time, the Cosmic Force began to be difficult to find. It's a sensation I don't have words for. As if it were ill. Lessening. Weakening. There's only a small handful of Force sensitives alive today who can reach into the Cosmic at all, when it used to be that a Jedi could call upon both Living and Cosmic. My master... my master suffered, because of this. There were times he would make a call that looked right in the moment, but had disastrous implications for the future. He was already strong with the Living Force, and with the Cosmic even more difficult to reach... he just couldn't hear it. Between that, and the Sith— who have been manipulating people on vast scale into feeding the Force's current darkness with suffering and hate and greed— we're at a more perilous place now than we were three thousand years ago when an army of Sith lords drove us to near extinction. Then our numbers were small, but the Force was  _there._ Even if we had been utterly annihilated, there would have been hope, because the light itself can never die, and it always finds a way to touch those whose hearts are open.”

“But things are wonky now.”  
“Yes. And because of the Cosmic Force's disappearance or absence, we cannot find the Sith Master who is in charge of this war. There are glaring things we know are wrong, but we cannot find how the pieces fit together. It's like working through a brain fog, all the time.”

“So you need to find a way to push back the Living Force or draw forward the Cosmic Force so they're equal again.” Hardcase frowned. “Seems like killing a bunch of people would do the trick.”  
Kenobi nearly choked, a morbid laugh bubbling up from his throat. “Two years of war certainly should have solved the problem, by that logic. Except it's made it worse. And it's fed the darkness to the point where it is stifling. It's exhausting to simply wake up in the morning, and the fog remains all day, and the hopelessness returns at night.”

“Why are you only just now looking into this?” Rex asked, looking worried.

“Because—” Kenobi stared down at his hands. “Because as far as we know, something like this has never happened before. The Cosmic and Living out of balance. And we don't know how to fix it. The Force knows, of course, and it created someone who could return the balance.”

Silence fell, even Boil stopped scrubbing his blaster to stare at Kenobi's breaking face.

“Now he's dead. And the Force still groans and shrieks and grates in our minds like a joint out of socket.”

“And because you survived, you think it's your job to find a way to do what he was supposed to do,” Rex murmured.

Kenobi's gaze shifted away. “There is no one else.” He stood, gathered the scroll in his hands, and walked out.

The vode turned to stare at one another, dread zipping between them like electricity.

“He's not sleeping, is he,” Cody asked, fingers clenching into fists.

Kix looked distraught. “No. He reads until a handful of hours from ship's dawn, and  _then_ turns in.”

“And he's using his meal breaks to study instead of eat,” Rex added.

_We're fripped. We're so fripped._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to continue this story, exploring what Obi-Wan does now that Anakin is gone, maybe even cover how Obi-Wan will struggle to find Balance since Anakin never had the chance to. How he might study ancient texts through the night and instead of eating study them during the day. How he might become more reckless than usual, since he didn't care if he returned to an empty home, a home with both Anakin and Ahsoka gone. How the clones fight to save him from himself. How he discovers there might be life to be found when he thinks his life is over and not worth living anymore.
> 
> I love this image, but there are no sparkles. If you desperately need more to this story, your best bet is to leave comments with suggestions of scenarios/scenes/interactions. If something gathers sparkles, it will happen.


End file.
